The Pirate Island | Page 2

the yarn
of the wrack in all the papers, in the hope that some of his friends or
relations might get to see it. But, bless yer heart! we ain't heard nothing
from nobody about him, never a word; so I just adopted him, as the
sayin' is, and called him Robert Legerton, arter a old shipmate of mine
that's been drowned this many a year, poor chap."
"And how long is it since the wreck happened?" inquired the shopman.
"Well, let me see," said old Bill. "Blest if I can rightly tell," he
continued, after a moment or two of reflection. "I've got it wrote down
in the family Bible at home, but I can't just rightly recollect at this
moment. It's somewheres about fourteen or fifteen years ago this winter,
though."
"Fourteen year next month," spoke up another of the company,
decidedly. "It was the same gale as my poor brother Joe was drowned
in."
"Right you are, Tom," returned Bill. "I remember it was that same gale
now, and that's fourteen year agone. And the women as took charge of
poor little Bob when we brought him ashore reckoned as he was about
two year old or thereaway; they told his age by his teeth--same as you
would tell a horse's age, you know, mister."
"Ay! that was a terrible winter for wrecks, that was," remarked Jack
Willis, a fine stalwart young fellow of some five-and-twenty. "It was
my first year at sea. I'd been bound apprentice to the skipper of a collier
brig called the Nancy, sailing out of Harwich. The skipper's name was

Daniell, `Long Tom Dan'ell' they used to call him because of his size.
He was so tall that he couldn't stand upright in his cabin, and he'd been
going to sea for so many years that he'd got to be regular
round-shouldered. I don't believe that man ever knowed what it was to
be ill in his life; he used to be awful proud of his good health, poor
chap! he's dead now--drowned--jumped overboard in a gale of wind
a'ter a man as fell off the fore-topsail-yard while they was reefing; and,
good swimmer as he was, they was both lost. Now, he was a swimmer
if you like. You talk about young Bob being a good swimmer, but I'm
blessed if I think he could hold a candle to this here Long Tom Dan'ell
as I'm talking about. Why, I recollect once when we was lyin'
wind-bound in Yarmouth Roads--"
At this point the narrator was interrupted by the sudden opening of the
door and the hurried entry of a tall and somewhat slender fair-haired
lad clad in oilskin jumper, leggings, and "sou'-wester" hat, which
glistened in the gaslight; while, as he stood in the doorway for a
moment, dazzled by the abrupt transition from darkness to light, the
water trickled off him and speedily formed a little pool at his feet on
the well sanded floor.
This new-comer was Bob Legerton, the hero of my story.
"Well, Bob, what's the news?" was the general exclamation, as the
assembled party rose with one accord to their feet. "Rockets going up
from the `Middle' and the `Gunfleet,'" panted the lad, as he wiped the
moisture from his eyes with the back of his hand.
"All right," responded old Bill. Then drawing himself up to his full
height and casting a scrutinising glance round the room, he exclaimed--
"Now, mates, how many of yer's ready to go out?"
"Why, all of us in course, dad," replied Jack Willis. "'Twas mostly in
expectation of bein' wanted that we comed down here to-night. And
we've all got our oilskins, so you've only got to pick your crew and let's
be off."

A general murmur of assent followed this speech, and the men
forthwith ranged themselves along the sides of the room so as to give
Bill a clear view of each individual and facilitate a rapid choice.
"Then I'll take you, Jack; and you, Dick; and you; and you; and you;"
quickly selecting a strong crew of the stoutest and most resolute men in
the party.
The chosen ones lost no time in donning their oilskin garments, a task
in which they were cheerfully assisted by the others; and while they
were so engaged the hostess issued from the bar with tumblers of
smoking hot grog, one of which she handed to each of the adventurers,
saying--
"There, boys, drink that off before you go out into the cold and the wet;
it'll do none of you any harm, I'm sure, on a night like this, and on such
an errand as yours. And you, Bill, if you save anybody and decide to
bring 'em into Brightlingsea, send up a signal-rocket as soon as you
think we